


Husbandry

by Sixthlight



Category: Frederica - Georgette Heyer, The Grand Sophy - Georgette Heyer, The Old Guard (Movie 2020), Venetia - Georgette Heyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Canon Relationships, Community: theoldguardkinkmeme, F/M, Gen, Gossip, M/M, Mentioned Pregnancy, Minor Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Nile Freeman, comedy of manners, elopement, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27571384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixthlight/pseuds/Sixthlight
Summary: “Anyway, what was I saying?” said Charis.“Why it was surprising that the Duke of Tunis had married the Sardinian ambassador’s brother,” Frederica prompted her.
Relationships: Aubrey Lanyon/Jessamy Merriville, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Vernon Dauntry Marquis of Alverstoke/Frederica Merriville
Comments: 28
Kudos: 325





	Husbandry

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to people from Heyer fandoms (who are justifiably going _what the fuck kind of crossover is this_ ) and people from TOG fandom (who are justifiably going _who are all these people_ ) but uh sometimes the niche crossover one’s heart desires is a Heyer crossover that seriously considers the consequences of Jessamy/Aubrey in an AU with same-sex marriage that is _also_ an outsider PoV fic about Joe and Nicky having a regency elopement. Thanks in advance to the three of you who this makes sense to.

“Frederica!” Charis exclaimed, having barely taken her gloves off. “Frederica, I have heard the most astonishing news.”

“Can it wait until the tea has been served, dearest?” Frederica responded. “Then you can tell me comfortably, without interruption.”

“I suppose so,” Charis sighed. “I own I am still very surprised that you have decided to come down for the Season, in your condition, as convenient as it is for me –”

“There is Jessamy to see about, and with any luck that will all be sorted before I am quite laid up.” Frederica put a hand on her stomach. “I am barely loosening my stays at this stage, I promise you, there is nothing to fret about.”

“If you say so,” Charis said, blinking doubtfully; Frederica knew she had had a very hard time of it with her son last year, and was duly concerned about Frederica, even though she had had the easiest of births with her first two. She waited until the tea was brought in, clearly quivering with excitement, and started speaking as soon as Frederica began to pour.

“It is the Duke of Tunis!” she exclaimed. “He has _married_! And there is more!”

“Clearly, or you would not be so excited about it,” Frederica said, smiling at her. “Do go on!”

Charis cleared her throat. “He has married the Sardinian ambassador’s brother –”

“Not all that surprising, surely? The ambassadorial set are all very social among each other, and of course Tunis is not so far from Sardinia.”

“The Sardinian ambassador is actually from Genoa, which is part of the Kingdom now,” Charis said, showing a degree of insight into international affairs which frankly astonished her sister. “Which I only know because Lady Ombersley very kindly instructed me, she having spent so much time abroad, you know – anyway, what was I saying?”

“Why it was surprising that the Duke of Tunis had married the Sardinian ambassador’s brother,” Frederica prompted her.

“Yes! Well, they are Catholic, you see, and of course the Duke is not even a Christian, and what is more, I understand the ambassador’s brother was meant for the church, that is, the Roman one,” Charis said. “And you know they do not let priests marry, and instead he has got married to the _Duke of Tunis_ , and besides which Lady Ombersley confided in me – or I cannot say she confided because there were a group of us there, but she did say it in a lowered tone – that is, I believe the ambassador is not _personally_ very well-to-do, it being an appointed position, and something about a Republic and the war, but they are not French, so I did not follow her logic. The point is, the brother does not have any sort of portion, it is believed, and one would think that would be necessary when there are so many other obvious barriers to the match – so the only conclusion can be that it is for love!” Charis clasped her hands together. “Don’t you think that’s romantic?”

“Yes, of course, dearest,” Frederica said. “And terribly useful.”

“Useful?” Charis blinked at her.

“You know that Jessamy has – an interest, which he hopes to bring to a marriage, with Alverstoke’s permission,” Frederica said.

“Oh yes, his Cambridge friend. What was his name? Aubrey?”

“That is correct. Anyway, I will not burden your ears with it, darling Charis, but there is some small scandal around the rest of the family, which is difficult for Jessamy’s career, and I do think it will be _much_ easier to win Alverstoke over if everybody is busy talking about this match instead.”

“I think they will be,” Charis said sagely. She did not prefer to spend most of the Season in London, being a creature of simple habits and too attached to her child and husband besides, but she did enjoy visiting with Frederica for a few weeks to catch up with old friends, from her one Season. “I have already heard the news from a dozen people, and _that_ is more than when the Baroness Scythia returned last year with an American bride.”

“Well, excellent for us, then,” Frederica said, “and I _will_ look forward to meeting this mysterious new Genoan groom. Lord Yusuf is such delightful company; I hope he has found an equally delightful husband. Now, will you have more tea?”

*

The first opportunity Frederica had to meet the Duke’s husband was at a ball given by Lady Ombersley, not quite the first of the Season but very close to it. As Frederica had no offspring old enough to be searching for spouses, and Jessamy was the only one of her siblings who could expect to make or receive an offer this year, she was not obliged to attend _all_ the entertainments she was invited to; only those she might expect to enjoy. When she first saw the Duke, however, he was not attended by a mysterious Italian; he was in conversation with Baroness Scythia’s wife. They made a striking pair. The Duke was dressed in English garb for this event, but his beard marked him out from all the other gentlemen even at a distance. Lady Nile was wearing a ball gown in a fine shade of jonquil, with violets embroidered along the hem and the neckline, that at least ten girls here tonight would beg their mamas to have replicated for them, and perhaps one in ten would have the complexion to carry off as well as Lady Nile. 

“Your grace,” Frederica said. “And Lady Nile. It has been too long since I saw either of you.”

“We were traveling over the winter,” Lady Nile said. “And we will be traveling again shortly, but Andromache thought we might as well show our faces at one or two events, while everybody is in Town. And of course, there was a wedding to celebrate.” She cast an amused glance at the Duke.

He laughed. He had a very nice laugh, Frederica had always thought; it always invited one to be part of the joke, and not its object. “We were very pleased you could be there.”

“Speaking of which,” Frederica said, seeing her opportunity, “I was so hoping I might be introduced to your husband, if that is not too impertinent of me.”

“Not at all, Lady Alverstoke,” the Duke said at once. “He is just fetching Lady Nile some punch, and I expect will be back with us any moment, not having very many acquaintances yet. Unless Lady Ombersley has kidnapped him to make introductions.”

“One would expect nothing else,” Lady Nile said, hiding a smile behind her fan; her eyes gave her away. “She is very efficient.”

“Unlike any other ladies of my acquaintance, to be sure.” The Duke actually _winked_ at Lady Nile, but she did not seem to mind at all; Frederica revised her understanding of the length of their acquaintance.

Baroness Scythia joined them only a minute or two later, with a man in tow who had to be the Duke’s husband. He was not quite what Frederica had expected. He was paler than the Duke, which one might expect in an Italian but then again one might not, and clean-shaven. He was very correctly dressed, with quiet elegance, and his coat showed off a very nice set of shoulders – Frederica was married but she wasn’t blind – but somehow the whole contrived to fade into the background in a way the Duke very much did not.

“Nicolò, may I present the Marchioness of Alverstoke. She is an old friend,” said the Duke. “Lady Alverstoke, my husband Nicolò.”

“The Duke is too kind; I may only claim an acquaintance,” Frederica demurred, as Lord Nicolò bowed.

“I had to rescue him from Sophy,” said Baroness Scythia, with a speaking look at her wife. “She was determined that he would meet _everybody_ before the dancing had even really begun.”

“She was only trying to help,” said Lord Nicolò. “She said it would be a shame if I had so few introductions made that I had only one or two people I might dance with.” His accent was very strong; Frederica wondered if he might be more comfortable in another language, but neither her French nor her Italian were good enough to make the attempt.

“A fair point,” the Duke said indulgently. The way he looked at his husband made it clear that Charis had been correct about it being a love-match. There might have been nobody else in the room.

“Are you here with your brother, Lady Alverstoke?” the Baroness asked.

“He is here, but –” Frederica bit down on her tongue; she should not speak of his attachment to Aubrey Lanyon yet, when it was still undecided. “He is still very young, you know, and it is of no matter whether he makes a match this Season or not. Mostly Mrs. Dauntry and I are here to see our old acquaintance.” She glanced over to where Jessamy was conversing earnestly with one or two other youths who she knew him to have befriended at Cambridge.

“May I have your hand for a dance, later?” Lord Nicolò said, surprising Frederica.

“Certainly,” she said. Baroness Scythia made a claim as well, which was also accepted. Lady Nile said she would not add to Frederica’s dance card now it was so rapidly filling, but that she would be happy to dance with the Duke, who immediately agreed to the plan.

“See, I am learning,” Lord Nicolò said to his husband.

“Indeed; by the end of the night you will hardly need me here at all,” the Duke said. Lord Nicolò only shook his head, not with the alarm of someone who needed an escort, but the firmness of someone who knew his preferences. “That will never be the case.”

“They’re going to disappoint everybody twice,” Baroness Scythia said after they were gone. “Firstly because Yusuf is now unavailable, and twice because they will _all_ expect their husband or wife to look at them like those two look at each other.”

“How did they meet?” Frederica asked.

“A hunting-party,” Lady Nile said. “They are both very good riders. Though we were not there, and the story is probably better had from them.”

“They should print invitation cards with all the salient point, or they will be repeating themselves everywhere they go for the next few weeks,” said her wife. “Lady Alverstoke, the music is starting – shall we?”

“Of course,” Frederica said, and put her hand in the Baroness’.

When it came time, Lord Nicolò proved to be an excellent dancer, as well as the rider Lady Nile had said he was. The Duke was an excellent conversationalist, and could hold a room in the palm of his hand; that was not at all his husband’s style, but his observations were all to the point. His eyes constantly strayed back to his husband, though, who was dancing with the Countess of Charlbury. It recalled Frederica very indulgently to the first days of her own marriage. Not that she did not still hold Alverstoke in all affection; but he was not joining her in Town for a week or two yet, so she could hardly look for him here.

“We are having a picnic when my husband comes to Town,” she said, as she and Lord Nicolò left the floor. “Would you and your husband care to attend?”

“We would be delighted,” Lord Nicolò assured her.

“Wonderful, but for friendship’s sake – with your husband at least – I must caution you not to commit yourself to too many engagements; the Season can be very wearying. Though I suppose if your brother is an ambassador, you may be used to it.”

“Oh, no, I had a very quiet life, and I was only meant to visit with my brother for a few weeks,” said Lord Nicolò. “But then I met Yusuf.”

“You know, I think my husband would say he had a very quiet life, or at least one convenient to his interests, and then he met me,” Frederica said, laughing. “So we have that in common.”

*

Alverstoke arrived two days before the proposed picnic; Frederica went to greet him with a kiss, but was beaten to the post by Jessamy, and had to wait.

“It is always so good to see you, sir,” Jessamy said, shaking his hand with enthusiasm; they had not seen each other since Christmas.

“Your sister hasn’t overset you with engagements yet?”

“No,” Jessamy sighed. “I know it is necessary.”

“It really isn’t, you know,” Alverstoke pointed out. “There is no rush for you to be married just yet.”

“We need not go over that again now,” Frederica said, and finally kissed her husband. “Vernon, we are having a picnic the day after tomorrow, and I need you to attend.”

“Do you _really_?”

“The Duke of Tunis has come to Town with a husband, and they will be there,” Frederica said.

“Oh! Yusuf has married? That must have been very sudden.”

“To the Sardinian ambassador’s brother. It is a nine-days’-wonder, to be sure. I have met Lord Nicolò, and he is very pleasant.”

“He was going to the Church – the Roman Church, I mean,” Jessamy put in. “We had a conversation about it, at Lady Ombersley’s ball.”

“Did you really?” Frederica had not noticed that exchange; but then she had specially been trying not to hover.

“He has a great deal of common-sense, even if he _is_ Catholic,” Jessamy said. “I haven’t had such a pleasant conversation at a ball since – well, maybe ever.”

“How nice for you, dearest,” Frederica said, ignoring the veiled reference to his first meeting with Aubrey. Theology at a ball; Jessamy was never going to change. “But, Vernon, you have not promised to attend the picnic.”

Alverstoke sighed, caught out. “Very well.”

“And how is Felix? And the children?”

“He has blown up the garden shed again,” Alverstoke said, “and the sooner he takes up his apprenticeship the better.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “The children are of course in excellent health or that would have been the first matter we spoke of. But how is Town treating you, my dear? You know you need not stay, if you are not up to it.”

“I will leave when I am ready and not a minute before,” Frederica instructed him.

“Oh, I believe it,” said her husband.

They had excellent weather for the picnic, and everybody Frederica had invited came. Most importantly, this meant that Aubrey Lanyon’s presence went unremarked. This was largely because everybody wished to speak with the Duke and his husband.

“I don’t recall,” Alverstoke murmured to Frederica as he handed her down from her horse, “saying that I liked Jessamy’s Patroclus attending events you are hosting.”

“It is his sister and his mother who are not invited to things, Vernon,” Frederica said. She did not bother to widen her eyes like an ingenue; Alverstoke understood her too well. “He is a school friend of Jessamy’s and as much devoted to his books, and it is perfectly unremarkable.”

She used her position as the hostess shamelessly, for her and Alverstoke to be seated near the Duke and his husband. Alverstoke was introduced to Lord Nicolò.

“Who is your brother talking to?” Lord Nicolò asked, almost immediately after. “I do not believe I have seen him before.”

“Oh, he is Lady Damerel’s brother, my love,” said his husband. “He is studying at Cambridge, I believe.”

“Yes, they are school friends,” Frederica agreed. “Are you acquainted with the Damerels?”

“Yes, indeed,” said the Duke. “I know it isn’t the, how do you say it here, _done thing_.” His eyes twinkled.

“I met them at the same hunting party where I met Yusuf,” Lord Nicolò said. “I was surprised to learn that they are not – what is the word – received.”

“The rules are different for you,” Frederica said. “Since you are married to an ambassador. Naturally in those circumstances one must be – or may choose to be – more pragmatic in one’s acquaintance.”

She stole another glance at Jessamy; he and Aubrey were talking animatedly. She knew Aubrey to have some trouble with his hip, but he looked comfortable enough, and besides it was not her concern, was it? Or not yet.

“It’s very convenient that you’re here, really,” said Alverstoke. “Everybody is interested in speaking with you, and nobody is paying attention to my brother-in-law’s scandalous – friendship.”

“You have a very interesting definition of scandal here,” said the Duke, thoughtfully. “Like paint, that rubs off on anyone who brushes too close.”

“You always have such a turn of phrase, your grace,” said Frederica.

“And he knows it,” said Lord Nicolò, with all indulgence. The Duke laughed and ducked his head.

“It’s serious, isn’t it,” Alverstoke said on the way home from the picnic, out of Jessamy’s earshot. “This thing of Jessamy’s.”

“It may yet prove to be calf-love,” said Frederica. “But they have known each other for several years now. And Jessamy still means to take orders; I cannot see any objection to Aubrey as a vicar’s husband, in himself.”

“Are the Damerels in London?”

“I do not know,” Frederica confessed. “I expect I could find out, from Jessamy.”

“If they are,” said Alverstoke, “I think it is probably time that you took tea with Lady Damerel.”

Frederica’s eyebrows rose. “Your sisters will complain about that for years, and its effects on their daughters’ prospects.”

“I don’t do things to please my sisters,” Alverstoke declared crossly.

“Except Eliza.”

“Except Eliza,” he conceded. “But it _is_ of concern to me that Jessamy is happy; he is so prone to moodiness. I have no taste for playing the ogre. And if you are concerned, I promise you that your position as my wife will allow you to carry the thing off, regardless.”

“Your sisters would say you _love_ to play the ogre, but I know better,” Frederica said, and kissed him.

*

Given the gossip, Frederica was not at all expecting Lady Damerel to appear as she did; a woman a little younger than Frederica, with guinea-gold hair and a sweet face of surpassing beauty. Her hat was perhaps a little daring, but one never would have expected her to be married – and, rumour said, perfectly happily – to a notorious rake. If she had had the sense to be married _unhappily_ then she might have retained some credit, but in such a circumstance, happiness could not be allowed to pass.

“I own I was exceedingly surprised to receive your invitation, Lady Alverstoke,” Lady Damerel said once the tea had been poured. “I am very little received, you know, nor do I care to be; we are so rarely in London.”

“Then what good fortune for me that you are presently,” said Frederica at once. “It would have been very inconvenient if you were in Italy, or Greece, or something of that nature.”

“Indeed.” Lady Damerel laughed. “I can only suppose this is about Aubrey.”

“You are aware of the attachment, then?”

“I would not have bothered to accept the invitation, otherwise.” Lady Damerel shrugged with the calm self-possession of one who did not care for Society’s opinion; Frederica could not help but be a little impressed. “And if all you mean to do is tell me to have him end it, I am afraid I must take my leave.”

“Not at all,” Frederica said, just as calmly. “I cannot see that that would answer; they will both be of age soon enough, and Jessamy does not have any care for worldly things. He would take the meanest living with a spouse he had chosen. But he is my brother and I know it would be so much better for him, if he did not have to. And of course Alverstoke has the power to arrange that, and would…if he and I were satisfied with the marriage.”

“Aubrey is exactly the same, as long as the roof over his head has room for books under it,” said Lady Damerel. “And I feel the same about him – although of course he will always have a home with us.” She sipped her tea, and frowned at Frederica. “But I know you have met my brother; how do I come into it, should they marry? Damerel and I are so rarely in England.”

“I merely thought,” Frederica said, “if they were to marry, even if you are mostly out of the country, we must be to _some_ extent connected.”

“Only if we want to be,” Lady Damerel said, very cheerfully. “My brother Conway hasn’t spoken to me since I got married, and if I were a better sister I would spend time moping over it, but I am very hard-hearted and do not. The funniest thing is that he still writes to Aubrey, as if he considers him somehow salvageable where I am not, and so I know everything that goes on with him anyway, will I or nil I. You know, what you should really consider is that if your brother does marry mine, you will have a connection to _him_.”

“Should I be concerned about that?”

“He is extremely respectable.” Lady Damerel wrinkled her nose. “But his mother-in-law will make a great deal of it and she is, I promise you, to be avoided at all costs. She tried to make Aubrey get rid of his dogs, you know.”

“I very much take your meaning,” Frederica said, thinking of the loved and now departed Lufra. They spent a surprisingly comfortable half-hour establishing that Lady Damerel and her husband would be quite content to see Aubrey happily wed to a pleasant young man with good prospects, even if those prospects were in the Church, and had no expectations of the connection for themselves; in fact, Lady Damerel was dryly annoyed, Frederica could tell, that that was at question. It was enough in itself for Frederica to decide that she would not mind receiving them; really, what was the point of being a Marchioness if your reputation could not handle a _touch_ of scandal? Alverstoke certainly thought that way. It minded her of the Duke of Tunis’ metaphor about paint.

“That reminds me,” she said, putting down her teacup. “Do I have it right that you are acquainted with the Duke of Tunis?”

“Yes!” Lady Damerel said, smiling at the change of topic. “Actually I know his mother better; we passed through on our way to –”

“His _mother_?” Frederica was taken aback, although she could not quite have said why.

“We all have mothers, I believe. Although mine is, I must confess, not nearly as formidable as the Duke’s. I am sure you know he isn’t a duke exactly, but that is how his title translates here. Anyway, I expect she will be quite surprised at his marriage, but having met Lord Nicolò, I think he will do admirably well in the family.”

“I understand you were at the hunting party where they met,” said Frederica.

“I was,” said Lady Damerel, and sipped her tea. Her eyes sparkled.

“Fine, I admit it,” Frederica sighed. “I am _ravenously_ curious about how it transpired, but too timid to ask either of them.”

“Well, I don’t know anything _personal_ , you understand,” said Lady Damerel, “so I do not feel constrained from telling you. Only that Lord Nicolò was there with his brother, who said that he was very bookish, and also soon to be a priest, and we should not expect to see much of him. And then practically the next thing we saw was the Duke reading him _poetry_ in the parlor – or at least that was what everybody thought, but both of them said very insistently that it was from the Muslim holy book and they had been having a _theological_ discussion, and do you know, I believed them perfectly, because I know Aubrey and that is just what he would have done. Except, knowing Aubrey, I also know that the two things are perhaps not as distinct as is generally believed.”

“Oh, yes, I remember when Jessamy hit that stage,” said Frederica. “Alverstoke attempted to tell me that I was better off not asking him for explanations of some of the allusions he made. As if I had not already had our eldest by then.”

“Men are very silly that way, sometimes,” agreed Lady Damerel. “Anyway, theology or not, Lord Nicolò – of course he was not that then, but it is too confusing to speak of him any other way – decided he would ride out with the rest of us after all, his books apparently being less interesting than the Duke, and it was perfectly plain what was going on, but Lord Nicolò’s brother was so insistent that it could not be that everybody considered it a passing fancy. They were all _terribly_ surprised when the marriage was announced. But I thought it obvious from start to finish. It is so interesting what people choose not to see.”

“You know,” said Frederica, “I cannot say whether I would have or not; I do try to take people at their word, but I have known the Duke some years now, and I feel it would be plain when his interest was fixed. He is not a man who hides his feelings. Certainly he is not hiding them now; he could not be prouder of his husband.” She cocked her head. “But, Lady Damerel –”

“I think really you must call me Venetia.”

“Venetia,” Frederica went on. “As you are so frequently out of the country, why have you been here from February to April now? If I may ask.”

“Well, Damerel does have things to attend to at the estate now and again,” said Lady Damerel. “But mostly it is that Aubrey told me everything, of course, and we stayed to see whether we liked the match for him, or whether we should persuade him to come abroad again.”

Frederica had to choose her next words carefully. “In your place, I would have done the same.” She shook her head. “In fact, you put me to the blush. I – had not stopped to consider the connection might not be acceptable to _you_.”

Lady Damerel nodded, but kindly. “Almost nobody would, you know. But I think it will do him good, and you will not hold him at arms’-length, which would not have answered, no matter how much he loved your brother.”

“I am so glad we have had this conversation, Venetia,” Frederica said, and meant it.

“As am I,” said Lady Damerel, for a moment quite sober.

*

“Vernon,” Frederica said to her husband that evening, “we will have to receive the Damerels after all, I think, once Jessamy and Aubrey have married, but I would not trouble yourself over it.”

“You are assuming my agreement, my dear,” said her husband.

“They don’t require it – Jessamy never having been your ward, besides almost being of age,” Frederica reminded him.

He laughed. “Are you planning to present Harry with the same ultimatum?”

“I am planning to suggest to Jessamy that it will go more smoothly if they wait until _after_ his birthday, and Harry will learn to live with it, especially when Jessamy obtains a good post, with your assistance. Harry’s chief concern is always that none of the rest of us become a charge upon him, you know.”

Alverstoke sighed, and kissed her on the forehead. “Oh, I know it very well. All this being accomplished, will you _please_ consider retiring from Town between now and your confinement?”

“I am not _entirely_ done up,” Frederica said, “but yes. I have promised the Duke of Tunis and his husband that we will host them at Alverstoke, after all; the Damerels being acquainted with them, if they visit at the same time, it will be much less remarked, and perhaps unnoticed. Especially if I invite Baroness Scythia, and the Ombersleys, and –”

“I also know, Frederica, when I am being managed; you not having consulted me at _all_ on this invitation.”

“Yes, and if you disliked it you would say so. I can only conclude you are pleased with it in this instance.”

“You are just as bad as any of your brothers for doing what you want,” said Alverstoke, lovingly, and kissed her on the forehead. Frederica leaned into his shoulder, and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this kink meme prompt](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/7005.html?thread=2438749#cmt2438749):
> 
> _All Town is a-flutter with the news: Duke Al-Kaysani, one of the most eligible bachelors, has married a poor parson's son, with no dowry to speak of! And now he's bringing him to Town for the Season!_  
>  Would love 3rd person(s) POV.   
> Super extra love if you work in actual Regency people, or characters from novels set in the Regency (like Georgette Heyer's or Jane Austen's.... just saying) 


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